Picture this: a near-naked warrior with a jar on his head, dual katanas glinting under the Erdtree's golden leaves, casually deleting Malenia for the thousandth time while the host does the 'Ring' gesture in a corner. That’s the stuff of Elden Ring legend. But way back in the summer of 2022, the community’s favorite naked pothead—KleinTsuboi, better known as Let Me Solo Her*—decided to throw the ultimate curveball. He wasn’t going to solo anything. In fact, he was going to kick back, munch on some boiled prawns, and let the very people he’d carried for months do all the heavy lifting. And by Marika’s tits, it was glorious.

Now, four years on, gamers still talk about that stream like it’s the Moonside Sword of wholesome gaming moments. Let’s set the scene: the year was 2022, and LMSH had already cemented his status as the GOAT of jolly cooperation. With nothing but a jar, two katanas, and apparently a gallon of pure caffeine in his veins, he’d helped thousands of struggling Tarnished send Malenia, Goddess of Rot, back to the Haligtree roots. His summon sign was a beacon of hope—see the name Let Me Solo Her, and you knew you could just /sit and enjoy the show. Bandai Namco even sent him a real-life engraved sword and a wooden Malenia carving to celebrate his 1,000th win. The man was a walking, rolling, i-frame deity.

But even gods get bored of perfect dodging. So KleinTsuboi announced something wild on his YouTube channel: a stream where he would be the helpless host, and his viewers would be the ones melting bosses. He called it the ultimate role reversal—turning Let Me Solo Her into You Can Solo Them. PC players flocked to the group password “LMSH” at 4 PM Central Standard Time, ready to earn their place in the annals of meme history. The rules were deliciously simple: KleinTsuboi would summon random helpers, then stand back and watch as they battled late-game juggernauts like Morgott the Omen King all by their lonesome. No co-op cheesing, just pure one-on-one pressure while a legendary jar-headed spectator judged your every panic roll.

The comedy writes itself. Imagine sweating through Margit’s combo chains while the actual real-life legend of the Lands Between sits in the boss arena with the Dejection gesture, occasionally tossing a “My thanks!” prattling pate. Some warriors rose to the occasion with flawless parries; others got absolutely pancaked by Morgott’s holy hammer, only to see LMSH do a slow, disappointed teabag. It was a beautiful subversion of the whole “Let Me Solo Her” mythos—a moment that screamed, “I’ve carried you all, now let’s see what you’ve got, you beautiful Tarnished disasters.”

Here’s a quick breakdown of the night’s cinematic chaos, reconstructed from countless VOD clips and tear-stained Discords:

Boss Faced	Viewer Hero Style	Result	LMSH’s Reaction
Morgott the Omen King	Aggressive dual-wielding bleed build	Victory after three tries	Bravo! gesture, into a spinning jump
Godfrey, First Elden Lord	Unga bunga giant-crusher strength	Hilarious one-shot death	Patches’ Sitting emote, followed by 10 seconds of silence
Mohg, Lord of Blood	Comet Azur cheese mage	Clean instant kill	Confused Point Forward, then enthusiastic jumping
Radagon of the Golden Order	Ungodly parry god	Flawless victory	LMSH stood up mid-fight and did a real-life slow clap on stream

"Watching someone else get stomped by the boss I’ve slain a thousand times was oddly therapeutic," KleinTsuboi reportedly joked during the stream, channeling the energy of a proud parent at their kid’s first Little League game—if said game involved getting grabbed and crushed by a ghost lion.

But the true magic wasn’t just the slapstick. It was the community’s tribute. For months, LMSH had been the unbreakable safety net for players stuck on arguably FromSoftware’s hardest boss. Now, all those players—some who’d literally only beaten Malenia because of him—finally got to give something back. They showed up wearing their own goofy helms (pumpkin heads, albinauric masks, you name it), spamming Hello carvings, and pouring their hearts into every boss attempt. Some even stripped down to their skivvies in solidarity, a nod to LMSH’s trademark near-naked loadout. It was the most heartwarming flex the Elden Ring multiplayer has ever seen, and it reminded everyone why the Souls community is the best kind of beautiful mess.

Fast forward to 2026, and this legendary role-reversal is still referenced whenever a new player asks, “Who is Let Me Solo Her?” It lives on as a foundational myth, right up there with Giantdad and the Legend of the Backflipping Ninja Havel. KleinTsuboi himself has since become a semi-cryptic figure, occasionally popping into streams to drop a sign, but mostly existing as a folk hero. That one August day, though, he proved that true legends don’t just carry others—they teach them to carry themselves. Or at the very least, they give them a chance to embarrass themselves in front of 10,000 viewers while a jar-headed icon does the Ballin’ emote in the corner. Both are equally precious. ⚔️🙌